


The roads we take (the paths we choose)

by Tilly_the_Mouse



Series: Every choice heavier than a crown [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: An alternate look of how things could have gone, Characters may seem ooc at first- but that’s how I believe they’d act, Everyone is going to take at least a moment to think this time around, Gen, Gonna try and reign in Dany’s ‘white savior’ nonsense, Lady lives!, Multi, Oberyn being a major player way earlier and for hopefully longer, Other, You don’t need to read the prequel to understand what’s going on, a healthy mix of book and show, also A+ logic from King Tywin, and her entitlement to a place she’s never known, but it does help, considering the new reality I’ve written for them, lore-appropriate original character, playing fast and loose with timelines, that’s about the only favor I’ll do for Sansa at the moment, this is going to be self indulgent as triple chocolate cake for dinner, while still keeping true to her themes of empowerment, ’your son is in a coma so just take one of my grand kids and it’ll be fine’
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:35:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27238159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tilly_the_Mouse/pseuds/Tilly_the_Mouse
Summary: Different choices had been made during Robert’s Rebellion, so now different lives are being led. An extremely self-indulgent AU of the ASOIAF series
Relationships: Cersei Lannister/Oberyn Martell, Ned Stark/Catelyn Tully, Will add as the appear
Series: Every choice heavier than a crown [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1988755
Comments: 9
Kudos: 27





	1. Jon I

** Jon I **

A Raven flew overhead as it arrived, drawing Jon’s attention upward and away from the training yard. He didn’t even notice the footsteps approaching until a soft, delicate hand touched his shoulder. He nearly jumped out of his skin upon suddenly seeing Sansa’s apologetic smile.

“What’s gotten you so focused? Dinner has already started and mother bid me to come get you when your absence was noticed.”

“I saw a Raven arrived.” He explained, not meaning to be curt but finding further explanation hard. Thankfully being the eldest, his cousin had a deep understanding of all the children’s insecurities ~~even Theon’s~~ , having often played nursemaid to them when they were younger. She always said (with a muted sort of pride) that it was practice for when she would marry and become a great lady.

“I wouldn’t concern yourself with it,” she said as she helped clean up the rest of the equipment in the practice yard. “I doubt Lord Baratheon would make the journey all the way North during a summer peak like this. He’s too fond of sport and Dara tells me he organizesgrand hunts in the Kingswood when it gets too warm.”

“Aye,” he agreed, finally able to make his way to dinner without any distraction. “It’s more like to be an offer of some Vale-daughter for Robb.” Sansa laughed at that, but it rang slightly hollow; too filled with apprehension and her own insecurity on the matter.

Jon immediately felt sorry for bringing it up, knowing how sensitive Sansa was about the topic of marriages. Of course nothing he or anyone said could quell the fear she held that no one would want a ‘secondary Stark’ for their sons. He knew that father -Ned Stark insisted on raising his sister’s child as his own, so it only felt right to call him such- was working hard to find a match for Sansa that he approved of. For the first child of his wife (and the last remnant of a much beloved and long gone brother), he needed to be a man of honor and kindness and someone worthy of Sansa’s station.

Thankfully he didn’t have to dwell on the matter further as they joined the rest of the Stark children and began to dine; conversation immediately turning to the latest topic of excitement.

“It’ll be Bran’s first time so I don’t see why I can’t go!” Arya begged, tugging on Robb’s sleeve.

“It isn’t proper Arya.” Sansa said simply. “Besides, mother has requested you spend some extra time with Septa Mordane to work on your stitches.” At their little sister’s groan the conversation continued. Though he tried to put on a brave front, they could all tell of Bran’s apprehension at seeing their father dole out justice.

“You’ll do just fine Bran.”

“‘Sides, I’m sure after the initial shock there’s nothing interesting about a dead body.”

“ _Arya_!”

“What?”

“No she’s right,” Robb said with a wink, ignoring Sansa’s reproachful look and Theon’s chuckle. “I’ve been to a few of these and it turns out, once the head is gone from the body- all the sand inside starts spilling out.”

Bran shoved his brother in protest but laughed all the same.

~

The next day, as Ned Stark sheathed his sword, an approaching horse drew their attention. Everyone was on guard until the rider (two of them), dismounted and quickly ran to meet them. Everyone relaxed when they saw their guests were Sansa and Arya, but that vanished at the frenzied state they appeared to be in.

“What’s happened my girls? Why all this fuss?” He said as he drew them into his arms, kneeling to get a better look at them to check for any injuries.

“There’s been a Raven-“

“From the King!!”

“Yes. He and the Royal family are coming for a visit.”

“To Winterfell!”

“Yes Arya, where else? It said they should arrive within a moon’s turn.” A murmur of excitement ran through the boys, and Jon supposed Arya had been correct. There was nothing special about a dead body in comparison to a royal visit. Not even one that had spoken of Wights.


	2. Catelyn I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgot to add this at the end of last chapter (Which is where some of the explanations to the changes for this au will be), but obviously a lot of the younger characters have been aged-up.  
> Specifically: Sansa- 16, about to turn 17 (born in the middle of Robert’s Rebellion), Jon- 16, Robb- 15, Arya- 13 , Bran- 10, and Rickon- 7  
> More info will be added when it becomes relevant (bc I don’t want to give everything away all at once ;) )

** Catelyn I **

From the moment she learned of it, Catelyn misliked the royal visit. To receive King Tywin’s raven the day after the one she received from her sister. It wasn’t hard to surmise the King’s purpose, he just lost his Hand and few other men held the Lannister patriarch’s respect and had a reputation of peerless honor. No, her worry lay with his _family_.

The son on the Kingsguard was explainable, but Princess Cersei and her brood’s appearance had her on guard. Even if the King had a secondary purpose in introducing his heir, the Prince Joffrey, to the Northern kingdom- to what purpose could there be for his mother and siblings presence?

She shook away her doubt by telling herself that it was likely just an opportunity to them. Princes’ Oberyn and Tyrion certainly seemed to enjoy revelry, drinking a significant amount of Winterfell’s store of wine during the welcoming feast. And Princess Cersei seemed to take delight in twittering to herself about Winterfell’s lack of opulence.

Thankfully the King himself had been gracious and pragmatic during his visit. He paid his respect at the crypts, took solace in the Godswood, and had nothing but admiration for their glass houses and pipes that held hot running water from the springs. He kept his conversations to the point and negotiatory: He wanted Ned for his next Hand and would not take no for an answer. It was merely a matter of ironing out the finer details.

And then the accident had happened. Her Bran had fallen ~~he never fell~~ from the old tower, leaving him broken and asleep. Cat had been so wrong in her previous assumption that there was no greater heartbreak she could bear than when her first intended (married for only a night), left her pregnant and afraid when he died. Oh how wrong she was.

And now her husband had to leave her side, taking two pieces of what remained of her heart with him. How would she pass her days without Arya’s fierce strength? How would the keep ~~and herself~~ continue on without Sansa’s dutiful care? Without Ned, her heart and her rock, how would she ever find rest again?

She couldn’t even pull herself from Bran’s side long enough to bid him goodbye, and she hated herself for it. Compounding that was the fact that the Princess Myrcella had been left in her care (that and a promise of the finest maester in the realm to be sent from the citadel), much to her mother’s protestations. But the King had decided it would benefit the girl to foster under Cat’s tutelage, and his word was final.

She half suspected it was a kindness on his part, an effort to pull her focus away from her sorrow at Bran’s bedside. Thankfully the girl seemed to understand, and often sat with them, softly singing songs as she embroidered or read. She reminded Cat so much of her Sansa when she was younger, but had a cunning spark to her as well that she was sure originated from her father. She was sure the girl would make a great Lady one day, with or without her guidance.

It was the small comfort Myrcella provided that finally allowed Cat to leave Bran’s side for an hour. She was in need of a bath and had made the girl swear to not let him out of her sight and to get her if there was even the slightest change.

That had been a mistake as not even ten minutes had passed before the quiet of the castle was broken with the sounds of a scream mixed with a terrible snarl. She hastily pulled on a dressing gown and ran to Bran’s chambers, trying to ignore the mournful howls that came from the kennels and the servants stopped in the halls in confusion.

She reached her son’s chambers quickly and had no time to take in the scene before she reacted. Throwing herself between her son and the girl, and the strange man with a dagger being attacked by her son’s ~~wonderful, glorious~~ wolf.

Though she suffered horrendous cuts to her hands, it wasn’t long before the room was filled with familiar men and the intruder taken care of. The excitement wasn’t over, for as soon as Cat was able to catch her breath and check on Myrcella’s safety- Bran began to stir.

It was hours before things had settled and as much information as was available was revealed: a sellsword had dressed himself as a servant and was able to get close to her son under that guise. Apart from the dagger he wielded, which Myrcella (who was unharmed thank the Seven!) was able to indentify as being once owned by her uncle Tyrion. A fine blade of Valyrian steel, he had previously lost it in a bet, but to whom she did not know.

This meant that while Bran was the intended target, the princess’ safety had not been taken into account. Given the behavior Cat had observed of the Imp before he had departed to see the sight of the Wall further north, if he _had_ been involved he would have taken measures to ensure her safety.

This meant someone was attempting to frame him. And if the lives of the royal family were considered nothing more than collateral, then Ned and her girl’s were not safe.

She hated to leave her son, who was only now awake and recovering but the rest of her family needed to be warned. Some unknown force had designs against the Starks, and as her beloved Ned would remind her ‘the lone wolf dies but the pack survives’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s also some changes to the Lannister’s for this story, right now I’ll discuss the children: Joffrey (14), is still Jaime’s spawn and still the absolute worst. Myrcella (12), is Oberyn’s true daughter (and gets along with the Sand Snakes wonderfully), and Tommen’s (10) parentage is a real question.


	3. Daenerys I

** Daenerys I **

She sat in the large brass tub until the water cooled and all that remained was the soggy rehydrated flowers and the layer of scented oil on top of the water. She didn’t want to leave, clinging onto the thinnest hope that if she didn’t move, allowed herself to shrivel in the water, then her circumstances would be different than what they were.

She was being sold today.

It had been not six years since the assassin sent by the Westerosi had taken her mother, and her brother had managed to squander and waste the last of the jewels and gold she had been diligent in storing. And now he was to give her as a bride to a Dothraki horse-lord on the flimsy promise of his army that would help him ‘reclaim his birthright’.

He had been obsessed with that notion since they were small, despite how many times their mother told them that it had been won through rite of conquest, and that they had been fortunate to be exiled in the comfort they had. There were stories of other disposed royals who had not been so lucky.

Truthfully Dany had been content with their life, however small and unimportant it had been. Before her mother had been killed, they lived in a small villa in Braavos; with a red door, a fragrant lemon tree under her window, and a sworn shield with a kind smile. Ser Willem Darry had been instrumental in their escape during the siege of Dragonstone, and after had been a grandfatherly figure who assisted their mother in their upbringing. He had been old though, and passed many years ago. She couldn’t even remember the color of his eyes.

Then shortly before her mother was taken from them, Ser Jorah Mormont had been sent to them. The timing would have been suspicious to her had he not been with her at the fish market when Rhaella was attacked. And in the years that followed he valiantly stood by them, even when they had no funds to pay him as Viserys ran them through the free cities- trying to beg and persuade various magisters and sell-sword companies to his cause. Throughout all of it Jorah had been a comfort, stoic and paternal while her brother grew obsessed and desperate.

Only now he had found some success with Illyrio Mopatis. And Dany now sat in a Manse in Pentos, bought by a Khal and paid for with an army to seize a crown that wasn’t truly theirs.

A knock on the chamber door drew her from her thoughts as a handmaid let in a visitor. Ser Jorah bowed quickly, a habit ingrained by her brother’s insistence, and kept his eyes trained on the ground. But even from where she sat she could see that they were full of emotion.

“Princess...” he started, trailing off as words escaped him.

“Soon you’ll start have to referring to me as ‘Khaleesi’.” She smiled, attempting to grant him a bit of levity. His small smile indicated her success, and surprised her in alleviating her own mood.

“I know this cannot be easy for you but... I have something that might grant you a bit of reprieve.” That piqued her interest as he handed her a scroll- unopened but slightly worn with age. “The man who granted me the clemency of exile instead of execution or the Wall, Ned Stark; he wrote that and bade me to keep it safe in my possession until such a time in which you would need council.”

“This is truly an auspicious occasion then.”

“He is a wise and honorable man Princess, and I hope his words will provide you with some comfort in the coming days.” Jorah bowed once more before leaving her alone. The door was barely closed before she eagerly left the now cool water to open the scroll.

_Princess Daenerys Targaryen,_

_ I hope when this missive finds you it is with good fortune. I understand that you may have complicated, or even negative feelings towards me and my house, but I bear you no ill will. The actions taken during the Rebellion were done for love of my family. And that is the message I wish to convey with this- **family**. _

_ While you, your brother, and the former Queen Rhaella are in Essos- I wish for you to know that there is another. We have a mutual nephew, the son of the former Prince Rhaegar and my dear departed sister Lyanna. _

_ There are many rumors circulating about the relationship they had, and while there is always an undercurrent of truth amidst the talk- the truth remains that they were two youths caught up in the throes of passion and new love, and entire kingdoms fell by the wayside. _

_ For all the damage they may have caused, I can’t say I regret what their love produced. For raising my Targaryen nephew along side my own children, what should have been a reminder of all that was done against my house, has been one of my life’s greatest joys. And it is with this in mind I would like to extend an invitation. _

_ Should you ever desire to return to Westeros, Winterfell will be glad to be your host. Though the Targaryen name has many enemies, as long as there is a Stark in Winterfell, you will find family. _

  * _Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell & Warden of the North_



‘Well this’, Dany thought to herself as she carefully folded and tucked away the parchment close to her chest as she began to ready herself. ‘Is certainly a reason to turn my gaze towards Westeros.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So!! Ngl Dany was hard for me to write bc I’m not a huge fan of hers? Like obviously Book!Dany I’m more of a fan of, but those last seasons especially she really grated on me. So the question became- how do I fix what was botched?
> 
> Add that with the changes I made to the timeline, would she even consider the throne/Westeros as hers? I’m hoping it’s a theme I’ll be able to explore with differing viewpoints more- but how effective I pull it off remains to be seen.


	4. Ned I

** Ned I **

Ned was miserable. That was the only way to describe it. Only a moons turn into their journey South and they were only just past the neck. A large part in that was due to the Princess Cersei insisting on stopping at inns or imposing at whatever keeps marked their path. She seemed determined to not spend a single night camping in a tent. While it made for easier traveling, the time on the road was starting to wear everyone thin.

Which is how he found himself half-heartedly searching the nearby woods for his daughter with the company of the King and Prince Oberyn. Apparently a small spat occurred between his girls’ and the young prince Joffrey,and being hot-tempered and young Arya had shoved him to the ground. When the ~~brat~~ boy had gone sniveling to his mother, she ran. Leaving Ned to look for her, while Sers’ Jaime and Sandor Clegane searched for the local boy (he thought his name was Mycah?) she was playing with who was caught up in the affair.

It was heavily trying to his already frayed patience.

“I think this is far enough. Your girl will come back on her own before sundown, after some time to cool her head.” Tywin had said, slowing his mighty horse to a sedant pace. “In the meantime there is something I’d like to discuss with you.”

That set Ned even further on edge. Tywin had already requested his service as his hand, and had hinted at the notion of tying their two families together through marriage. Whatever more there was couldn’t bode well.

“As I’m sure you’re aware, Jon Arryn was my previous hand. I know he was like a second father to you. A good and honorable man.”

“It is as you say, your grace.”

“To put it bluntly, I have my misgivings over the nature of his death.” Now **that** caught Ned off guard. To hear that **the** Tywin Lannister not only didn’t know something, but also had similar suspicions he was choosing to confide in him? It felt like the ground suddenly became the sky.

“You believe it was someone in your court.”

“Aye, we do.” Oberyn said from his other side. He wasn’t well acquainted with the Dornishman, but in the short time he knew him Ned had never seen him so serious. “I myself am only brought into this confidence because the Master of Whispers has heard designs against my sister, Elia.”

That too was troubling. Elia Martell had become like a ghost since the war- keeping to herself and only venturing outside of Dragonstone to visit Sunspear. Trading one brother’s protection for another.

“Apparently the source of said designs were from your old friend.” Tywin said, accusing Robert Baratheon without actually speaking the words.

“It’s been years since I’ve spoken with him. Long before you appointed him your Master of Ships.” Reading their faces he continued. “But, perhaps it is time to rekindle that; if only for the sake of our daughters. His Dara has been a true friend of my Sansa and would make a good match for one of my son’s.”

“I can see I wasn’t mistaken in appointing you as hand.” Tywin nodded in approval, and his Goodson grinned rakishly at him (likely one of the few to be allowed to do so).

“You rarely are father. Although we should also advise that our dear Ned not limit himself socially. The court is full of all kinds, and you’ll find yourself with many options for new ‘friends’.”

His orders given and understood, Tywin nodded once and turned his horse to return. While Ned had thought himself in for a ride in companionable silence- a new (equally stressful) conversation was brought up.

“I’ll not force this issue, I respect you too much for that, but I’d like for our families to be joined.”

‘Well at least he’s giving me the courtesy of the illusion of choice’ Ned thought, steeling his stomach for the King’s next words.

“In truth I’ve been searching for years for the perfect bride for my son. So that I could ensure Casterly Rock’s future, and the young Lady Stark had impressed me greatly.”

“You mean to intend Sansa for Tyrion?”

“Tyrion?” It was one of the few times the King’s face showed something other than a distant control. “Seven no! Jaime is the heir to Casterly Rock and its high-time he take that seat.”

“I thought the Kingsguard served for life?” While Ned asked the question as it was due, in truth he felt relief. She might not have been his true-born daughter, but Sansa was a gentle soul with a caring heart. She deserved a husband who was a hero from one of her songs made real. And like it or not, for all appearances Jaime Lannister fit the bill.

Like everyone else in the realm he heard the stories of what happened in Kings Landing that day. How as the siege was finally breaking through the city walls, he stuck his sword into Mad Aerys’ back. How he slew every pyromancer he could find, and rushed to the side of the Princess Elia (a prisoner in all but name, used for leverage against her family much like him) but failed to arrive in time to save her children.

It was a tragedy in its own right and while all seemed sympathetic to his face, the whispers of ‘Kingslayer’ had followed him during his visit to Winterfell. Ned knew all too well that there were some dishonors you wore with pride.

“We’d have to spin a tale for the Septons and small folk of course, but surely one of the benefits of being King is getting a say in who my guard is.”

“It was my idea.” Oberyn said with a satisfied smile. “The realm has known peace for many years, and while I wouldn’t wish otherwise, a bit of excitement will do wonders for the realm. Plus with Jaime married that’s one less burden for my dear Goodfather here, and one less hungry mouth hanging around my castle every few months.”

Ned could find little fault in their argument, and knew he wouldn’t have a valid reason to deny the match; but this was a lot to process all at once.

“I’ll speak to her on it. I have no complaints if she agrees to it.”

The rest of the ride passed in relative quiet -finally-, but it was soon broken as they approached the campsite.

“Well there’s the dulcet tones of my own dear bride- I’d have thought her calmed by now.”

Apprehension clawed it’s way into Ned’s gut with a renewed vigor, and he had no sooner stepped foot near the epicenter of the commotion then he was nearly thrown back by Sansa’s tall form desperately clinging to him.

“Oh good! Father- seize her at once!” Cersei hissed as she pointed to the trembling figure trying to hide behind him. Ned paid her no mind as he turned to comfort his daughter.

Her eyes, normally blue and bright as rivers, were wet with unshed tears and a small cut was on her trembling lip.

“Sweetling, what happened?” The apprehension morphed into a heavy block of ice as she looked down in shame.

“I’m sorry father. I just couldn’t let them take the blame.” She whispered, screwing her eyes shut tight in an effort to not shed any tears.

“What do you mean?”

“That little-“

“Careful.” Oberyn interrupted, wisely telling his wife to watch her words.

“She let those blasted wolves go and denied me the justice I am _rightfully_ owed!” Cersei hissed, and turned to her father. “My son, _your heir_! Was viciously attacked and while you were off searching for that feral girl, I decided to take matters into my own hands.”

Tywin, face hard and unreadable, approached Sansa and looked over her face as she tried not to flinch away. When he spoke it was with the cutting steel of a King’s displeasure.

“You mean to usurp my duties from me then? You believe you have the right to act as King?” For all her blazing fury, it quickly turned into wide-eye shock at his words. Even more satisfying was the Prince Joffrey’s reaction behind her- his worm-like lips twisted into a scowl of rage, similar to the tantrums Rickon would have when being put to bed earlier than he’d like.

“N-no of course not, I just thought that since your heir had been harmed so, it was my duty as his mother and your daughter to-“

“To what? Take out your anger on the Stark girls’ animals? Like some commoner child who hasn’t developed the reason yet to handle a slight? Tsk, and here I thought I raised you better than that.”

Joffrey made to protest, but his mother quickly pinched his arm to quiet him as Tywin strode over, clearly meaning to scold them like they were naught more than children.

“If this is how you react to your son, the future King, taking a small tumble then perhaps he should no longer be in your care. And you-“ the boy looked like he was halfway to wetting himself when the King snapped his cold, pale green gaze to him. “If you are going to be so petulant as to take offense at a child’s anger, then maybe you’re not fit to rule. Now tell me, did it hurt when the girl pushed you?”

“Yes Grandfather-“

“What was that?”

“I mean, ‘Your Grace’. It hurt.” With a calm nod, Tywin clapped his grandson on the shoulder- and shoved him harshly to the dirt below.

“You’ll learn what true hurt is soon enough. You can’t cry over a scraped elbow in the middle of a battlefield **boy**. From now on you’ll ride next to me and not in the litter with your mother, hopefully you’ll be able to understand some of the wisdom I’ll pass on. And the both of you will now treat the Starks with the respect they are due. They are one of the oldest and greatest houses in the realm, and the Lady Sansa is to soon be your Goodsister Cersei.”

Everyone fell silent at that, shocked at the King’s proclamation. Apparently the courtesy of choice was no longer on the table for them, and Ned could only hope this would be a boon for Sansa as much as it seemed to be a punishment for them.

But before anyone could say anything further, Ser Jaime rode into the camp holding onto a sobbing Arya, with Sandor Clegane behind him, with a bloody sack strapped to the back of his horse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lore time: After Tywin won the Rebellion (through his unmarked forces combined with Dorne’s) and he took the throne, instead of giving Cersei to Robert, he wed her to Oberyn to honor the alliance they made during the war. Robert Baratheon however, was completely broken up about the Lyanna issue and retired to Storm’s End for a few years before he was given a position in court (mostly to keep the Storm Lands in the watch of the crown- and also he really needed something to do). He also was wed to Ashara Dayne (who didn’t jump to her death at Starfall bc there was no reason to at the time). They had one daughter, Eddara (bc lbr naming her after Ned is the one thing they’d be able to agree upon), who we may see at a future point *wink*
> 
> Also, I feel like if Ned knew about the circumstances Jaime was presented with that day in the Red Keep- he wouldn’t be so judgmental about the ‘honor’ of it (especially considering that to the people outside of his family- he also broke his honor by siring a bastard). Whether Jaime keeps his good opinion remains to be see though *second wink*


	5. Bran I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m gonna be real with y’all- this was a beast to write because I’m not super into Bran or his story. But since I’m making changes, checking up on him is necessary. Sorry for the delay!!

** Bran I **

  
The warm body of Summer across his lap was a small comfort- but since he awoke, all comforts seemed small. His wolf seemed content though, half-asleep and tail lazily thrumming to the sound of Myrcella softly humming by the fire.

The girl had become a constant presence since he awoke, attending his lessons with him, playing assistant as the maester’s examined his recovery, even convincing Robb to have the stable-boy Hodor carry his body to walk him around the castle grounds.

He could only surmise that her intentions were meant to lift his spirits, but the humiliation of it all would have made him lash out if he could only summon the fire for it.

In truth, ever since waking up the world around him had seemed muted, lessened and grey and dull. He knew Robb and Jon were worried (even Theon tried every so often to make him laugh with a joke), but how could he explain it to them?

That only when he slept did he feel alive. That in his dreams he _flew_ ; higher than he had ever climbed in life and over lands and kingdoms he only heard about in his lessons. That a voice, mysterious and all-knowing, told him that **he** was important. Now even more so than before. The broken prince who could fly in his dreams.

Such was the case now. He was flying- following a raven as it soared farther than he’d ever gone before. Past the ocean until they were over lands he had never seen before. A distant memory of his lessons told him he was somewhere in Essos- ‘the great grass sea’. 

They were approaching a Dothraki tribe, larger than he could even conceive. The movement of the horses and the southern climate seemed to generate a warmth he could feel. A building heat like fire, that thrummed with its own pulse in time with a far away noise that he couldn’t hear.

“ ~~ _You’re going to want to keep an eye on that one, kid_~~.” The Raven said to him, swooping low to land on a shoulder of a white haired woman. She seemed not to notice though as she continued riding. “ ~~ _She’s a wildcard and doesn’t even realize that she’s going to change the world_~~.”

As the Raven spoke (never turning to look at him), the heat Bran felt seemed to increase. As did the sound, which he now recognized as his name- someone was trying to wake him from his sweltering dream.

He couldn’t help the disappointment he felt as he came to- Myrcella’s smiling face hovering over him. He shrugged her hand off, harder than he meant, but her careful and placating smile only served to annoy him further.

“You fell asleep in your chair.” She said softly, purposefully ignoring his ire. He knew it was childish, but Bran couldn’t help the scoff as he began to wheel his chair away. However he only made it a short way before he was stopped, and before Myrcella caught up to them.

“Looks like we’ve stumbled on a nice prize for ourselves, with the ransom we’ll get with these two.” The leader of the group drawled, a predatory grin cracking through his face. There were five total, all bedraggled and hungry looking- and carrying weapons. A spike of fear went through Bran at the memory of the stories he heard about wildlings who snuck past the barrier of the Wall. How they were ruthless, and cared not for things like station or age as they sucked the marrow from the bones of whoever they caught.

He made to tell Myrcella to run, to scream and find Robb or anyone who’d be able to save them- but to his surprise, gentle and annoyingly cheerful Myrcella, had a dagger drawn in a grip that seemed all too comfortable holding a weapon.

Before he could take in anything else of what was happening, it was over. Theon’s arrows pierced the necks of his assailants, Summer was there in a tangle of fur and blood, and Robb was fretting over him as mother would as Jon restrained the only survivor.

Once Robb was sure everything was settled and safe, they began to make their way back to the castle proper, as he ranted out loud about new measures he’d take to ensure their safety. Theon joked in an attempt to calm his nerves, with Jon only nodding along. But the suddenness of it all left Bran unsettled.

“You know, I visit Dorne at least once a year.” Myrcella started, not bothering to be included in the older boys’ conversation, her tone no less cheerful but subdued and directed at him. “And each time my uncle Doran gives me a task to occupy my quiet hours. Sometimes it’s a particularly tough riddle, but most often he asks me for ideas on how to improve the time he spends in his wheeled chair.”

He had heard of Doran Martell in his lessons, but the news that the leader of Dorne was afflicted like him stirred something in Bran. Shame mostly, for spending so long feeling sorry for himself and being ungracious to all attempts to lighten his mood. But he also felt a small sliver of hope. After all, if a kingdom could be run from a wheelchair, who was to say Bran couldn’t achieve the things he dreamed of. Why shouldn’t he be able to fly?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always loved the ‘Myrcella thriving in Dorne’ tidbits we got from the series, so for this work I decided to double-down on it. So in this AU shes like Sansa in sensibilities, but she’s very much Oberyn’s daughter. (And last I checked, one of the sand snakes was blonde with light eyes so there’d be no question there). I also think Myrcella would embrace her dornish heritage, treating the Sand snakes as sisters and learning as much as she can from Doran. But the flip side of that is the distance between her and her mother. Cersei loves her daughter of course, but the fact that she isn’t solely ‘hers’ (that she shares Myrcella with Oberyn) would make her a little resentful.


	6. Cersei I

** Cersei I **

Cersei awoke in a sour mood- which was the new normal for her ever since they passed the Twins and her father had his little outburst. Honestly she didn’t know why he insisted on punishing them when it was that wild Stark girl who set her beast on Joffrey, his heir, for no reason. And that bastard older sister of hers who insured justice was not to be served.

And why would he make Jaime suffer by tying him to that girl? She was far too simple and plain to be anything but far beneath his station. And the fact that she was a woman flowered and not already married off clearly meant there was something wrong with her. It almost made her laugh, how not even the barbarians of the North wanted her despite all the proclaimed ‘love’ they held for the Starks.

Worse still was that she could barely get a minute alone with Jaime. He was always was being called away to hunt with father or to dine with those Starks. His absence was keenly felt, and Cersei found it unbearable to be denied what was rightly hers.

The sooner they arrived at Kings Landing the better. She knew all the hidden pathways to Jaime’s chambers in the White Tower- soon she would be able to use them and remind her beloved twin who he truly _belonged_ to. Simpering little wife or no.

“You’re plotting something my dear.” A familiar voice breezed into her ear as warm arms trapped her in a vice of an embrace. Her marriage to the Prince of Dorne had been arranged- a suitable gift for the assistance they provided in the Rebellion, but she had been surprised how well they got along.

Oberyn loved her passionately and allowed her to rule Dragonstone in all but name, respecting her decisions as law. But he wasn’t solely hers, and that she could not abide.

She remember the grief she had felt the first time she found another in his bed. She was so beside herself she fled to Kings Landing and Jaime’s embrace even though it had been years since they last saw each other. She regretted running away like some craven, but savored the shock on her husband’s face when she came home with a belly swollen with babe.

“You’re mistaken my Lord. You know I’m not one for schemes.”

“Schemes, no. But I know your cunning mind, and I know that you’re angry... and that you’re hiding something.”

Her heart skipped for only a moment. Surely Oberyn couldn’t know her secret. She and Jaime had been so careful, never any whispers, and the only witness had been that boy (and he had been taken care of easily enough). She remembered how Jaime’s hand never faltered as he obeyed her command. It excited her but she had to soothe his worry before he would take her again.

“You don’t know what you speak of.” She hissed, reaching up to stroke his cheek, dragging her nails sharply in warning. His hand however trailed from her waist to grab her wrist in a bruising grip.

“I will only say this once, my sun- you have played around for far longer than wise, and now others are getting caught due to your negligence. Stop now before you do irreversible damage.”

A cold fury ran through her at his words, but it went unheeded as he nuzzled closer- slowly igniting a different fire too.

“Come home with me,” he purred, pressing a kiss to her jaw. “We’re so close it would be nothing to break away and make quick travel to Dragonstone. We could even stop at that inn you like...”

His words were sweet and tempting- but no. With one child sent from her she would not leave the others, and Joffrey needed to stay by her father, to learn how to be a _true_ Lion and King. The throne was in her grasp- her son almost on it. She would not falter in her goal.

At her lack of response, Oberyn stilled his ministrations and let out a deep sigh. She knew he understood though- as much as he was like the heated Dornish winds, never to be captured no matter the grasp, he often compared Cersei to the sun. Intense and radiant, almost blinding in her pursuit to shine over the land.

And much like the wind he was, he was gone from her side. She hated that his absence left her cold, but she didn’t need him. Let him run away with his tail between his legs, she was more than capable of providing her own fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we’re finally looking into (what I feel) is one of the most compelling characters/villains of the series.
> 
> This chapter was also shorter than I originally intended. I initially wanted to focus more on her relationship with Jaime and her approach to Sansa and save her dynamic with Oberyn for later buuut... the story goes how it goes I guess


End file.
